Saturday Morning
by kataract52
Summary: This is a pretty light-hearted piece. It's just a normal day for Rogue, who decides to spend some time with her stepdaughter. AU and OC. Please read and review!


**Disclaimer: **I do not own.

**Author's Notes: **The name says it all.This is a pretty short, plotless piece, set during Gambit and Rogue's retirement circa X-Treme era. One Saturday morning, Rogue spends some quality time with her stepdaughter. This family thing is pretty new for everyone involved, and they're still trying to work out their place. Please R/R!

**Saturday Morning**

Rogue awoke feeling complete and fulfilled. Slowly, the smell of fried eggs and toast drifted through the bedroom, but Remy was still sleeping beside her. In the back of her mind, Rogue reasoned that Honor must be up and making breakfast already. When she first came to them, they'd worried about her cooking skills, but she knew how to keep the fire risk to a minimum. With all her concerns slated, Rogue drifted back to sleep.

_Shit!_

She'd forgotten about the date last night! She and Remy drove out for some drinks and ended up in a bar fight; they weren't gone three hours. Honor insisted she'd be fine on her own, and she was. She put a substantial dent in her _Harry Potter_ novel while Rogue and Remy got a much-needed break. Honor was a sweet girl and entirely self-sufficient, but she had a habit of doing whatever she wanted whenever she wanted. Cooking eggs and toast unsupervised was a good example! If anyone voiced a concern over a grease fire, she'd blow the windows out yelling and then sulk in her room. Not only could she cook, she could also entertain herself and put herself to bed. And if anyone tried to break in while her parents were out, she could take care of them, too.

Honestly, taking care of Honor wasn't much more work than looking after a dog, but Remy worried about her endlessly. He knew mutants were less likely to graduate from college or have children. He knew that children who suffered the death of a parent were more likely to become mentally unhinged. And some days she really did lose herself in sorrow for her mother. She didn't cry or complain. She'd just lie in bed all day: limp and still as a fresh corpse with her father's eyes staring off into something too distant for her father to see. Remy would have to feed her like an infant in order for her to eat. He'd put the food on the fork, ask her to open her mouth and chew and swallow. He'd wipe her mouth for her and thank her for eating. If he wanted her to brush her teeth or bathe, he'd have to that for her, too. Those days – which weren't often, thank God – he'd spend _hours_ in her bedroom.

"It's a pretty day, petite. Would you like to go to de beach?... How 'bout de bookstore? You get anyt'ing you like."

He'd tried being firm with her, too. He'd begged and pleaded, but his tactics never made any difference. She'd just keep looking off into the distance. Finally, he discovered that she wouldn't _move_, but she'd _listen_. So he'd tell her stories until his voice went raw. Some of his stories were about Belle or his cousin Lapin, and some of them were completely fabricated. He seemed to particularly favor stories about pirates and thieves, and she loved the romantic parts. She'd listen… and sometimes she'd smile. That was all he wanted.

Meanwhile, Rogue would be cleaning the house or watching television, telling herself she _couldn't_ be jealous of an eleven-year-old who'd lost her mother. But Rogue didn't exist on those days. Remy only had so much love to give, and Honor got all of it. She'd tried talking to him, but it only made him angry with her. She'd tried helping Honor, too, but what could she do for a catatonic girl?

"I'm pretty damn tired of _Sesame Street_," he told her last night. "How 'bout a dinner wit' just de two of us?"

A night out was _exactly_ what they needed.

When they got home, Honor was already in bed, and the alcohol had gone to their heads.

They'd left a trail of clothes all over the living room, leading to their bedroom. She was old enough to know what was going on, but somehow it seemed so… _inappropriate_. It felt wrong to laugh and make love while Honor was mourning and her mother was dead. They'd planned to pick up the evidence before she'd woken up, but the plan was never executed.

Rogue quickly dressed and exited the room.

Honor sat on the couch, watching _Mystery Science Theater 3000_ and eating her eggs and toast. The girl was still in her pajamas, and didn't spare a glance for Rogue. Regardless, she kissed Honor's messy red-blond hair before passing by.

"Mornin', sugah. How'd ya sleep?"

"_Bien, merci_. If you're lookin' for your clothes, I already put dem in de laundry basket."

"Oh," Rogue blushed. "Thank ya, honey, but ya didn't have to do that. Ah meant to get it before ya woke up."

"It's fine," she grinned. "Sometimes I leave my clothes on de floor, too. Skillet's still hot if you'd like an egg."

"Think Ah'll just stick with toast. No chance of ruinin' that."

Honor giggled, although it was hard to tell if she were laughing at Rogue or the television. The two of them had always gotten along easily enough, thank goodness. Poor Jean had such a difficult time trying to earn Nathan's acceptance. The role of step-parent seemed synonymous with villainous home wrecker, but Rogue's difficulties were compounded by Belle's death and Remy's absence. For the most part, Rogue avoided Honor's resentment by _not_ being her mother. It was impossible and unnecessary to try to replace Bella Donna. Rogue could only be herself and hoped Honor would love her for who she was… Well, it had worked on _Remy_.

Sadly, Honor _did_ need her mother. She needed Belle more than she ever had before.

She was eleven – almost twelve. She hadn't asked for a pad or tampon yet, so she hadn't started her period. But the rest of her body was ahead of that curb. Her thighs and breasts were past the initial budding stage, and she seemed very awkward in this skin. Clothes were always a tense topic because once something didn't _fit_ the way it used to, she got angry. She outgrew her boots and her bicycle. Only her limbs had yet to develop: they were still too long and lanky, but she would be tall and strong like her parents. Even at eleven, she was already five feet and five inches tall.

The girl was aware of her changing body, and was trying to adapt with it. She spent more time struggling with her hair now. Some days she just tied it back, but when she let her curls hang loose, she bore an uncanny resemblance to her mother. She'd stolen one of Rogue's razors and started shaving her legs: she hadn't been shaving before Johnny dropped her off.

As for her more _lethal_ growths – her potential mutations – they'd have to wait and watch. Johnny mentioned Honor possessing some "otherworldly" traits, but they had no idea what to expect.

Rogue started a pot of coffee and then joined Honor on the couch.

"Rogue… Could I ask a favor?" Honor asked quietly.

"Of course, honey. What'd you need?"

Honor nervously glanced at her father's bedroom door, and then spoke in hushed tones. "Could you buy me a bra?"

"That all? Sure Ah will. Didn't Remy just get you one?"

"_Sí, sí_…" She squirmed awkwardly. "It was _awful_. I didn't want 'm standin' over my shoulder, made me nervous. And _he_ didn't wanna stand in the little girl bra section by himself: made him look like a pervert. 'Course, de _jacket_ doesn't help."

Rogue choked on a laugh. The experience had been equally as traumatic for Remy, and the pair had learned a valuable lesson in boundaries.

"Anyways," Honor continued, "We ended up fightin' over nothin' and I musta got de wrong size. It fit at first, but now it don't fit no more. And those trainin' bras Momma got me are too _thin_."

"You need t' throw those out, sugah, you are _definitely_ out of trainin' bra territory. There's a pretty nice place in the outlet center. That's where Ah go. Let me get a shower and we can head into town."

Honor hunched over uncomfortably and then asked nervously. "Remy ain't comin', is he?"

"Nah, we'll have a girls' day out! Just us!"

It was August, but the weather wasn't too hot to ride with the top down. Since the shopping center was a solid twenty-minute drive, Rogue thought it'd be a great opportunity to work on her tan. She wore a tank top with jean cut-offs and her walking sneakers. Shopping was _not_ for the weak-hearted. She hadn't been out for a "girls' day" in ages, and was excited about bonding with Honor. In the back of her mind, she'd planned to go shopping, maybe hit the beach, and grab some lunch before coming home for a cold shower and good nap. Even Remy was excited for her.

For some reason, Honor wore black boots, thick black pants, a three-quarter's sleeve shirt and a little green dress. She could've done with just the dress, but Rogue knew it was no good arguing with her.

They drove almost the entire way in silence. Rogue had tried making small talk, but Honor either ignored her or stared at her blankly. She seemed to have no lust for _anything_ – not music or shopping or conversation or the outdoors… If she wanted to be distant and detached, that was fine with Rogue, but Honor would be starting school next month. If she continued to behave this way, she'd be bullied mercilessly. The other kids would think she was _touched_.

The sign welcoming them into the town limits had been vandalized… _again_… But Honor either didn't notice or didn't care.

Valle Soleada was well-known for its tolerance of mutants. The people who disagreed never seemed to venture past the welcoming center. No one was ever harassed or tormented. No one had to lie or hide who they were. Maybe the town didn't have all the refinements and luxuries of New York, but it was peaceful and stable. Rogue thought it was the perfect place to raise a child.

"Here we are," Rogue announced once they reached the parking lot. "Hang tight just a minute. Let me put the top up."

Honor obliged and once she was out of the sun, Rogue saw a pink hue to her cheeks and nose.

"Oh, honey! You got burned. Hang on…" Rogue pulled out some aloe from her beach bag and gently applied it to Honor's face. "You shoulda said something. Ah woulda put the top up."

Honor surprised her by actually responding. "I like you, Rogue."

"Thanks. Ah like you, too."

"Momma would've never taken care of a sunburn. She never gave kisses, either. When I was little, I use to pretend I had a fever just so she'd kiss my forehead."

Rogue wasn't going to fall into the trap of bad-mouthing someone's dead mother. That was an _unforgiveable_ mistake. Instead, she put the aloe up and said: "Sounds a lot like my momma. You sure we ain't sisters?"

Inside, Honor walked by herself and at her own pace. She didn't ask to detour into any of the stores, and when Rogue veered from the course, the younger girl never wondered off by herself. She'd stay close to Rogue until she was ready to go again. It's like she was only walking _through_ life. Finally, Rogue decided to abort any intentions of folly, and took her to the underwear store.

"_Victoria's Secret?"_ Honor gasped.

"Yeah. Ever been?"

"_No_! I can't go in _dere_!"

"Why not?"

"'Cause I'm not a… not a…"

"Not a _what_, honey?" Rogue practically growled.

Honor took a deep breath and stepped inside.

It smelled like lavender and soft piano music filled the cold, bright air.

Honor took one look at the little pink bras and blue lace panties and zebra-pattern thongs and sneered. A perky sales associate swept over to offer help, and quickly turned tail when she saw Honor's face.

Rogue looked over a laughed. "Get that look off ya face! Where d'you expect to find this stuff? At the grocery store?"

She stepped further inside, but Honor stood firmly by the doorway, ready to bolt. Rogue took her hand and pulled her into the aisles.

"First we need to find your size… Wish you hadn't worn so many layers today. That's alright! We'll get a couple different sizes and see which one fits best."

"She's a 34 B," a stranger offered. The woman stood on the other side of the clothing rack, and as if to prove her accuracy, she added: "And you're a 38 C."

"That's amazing! How d'you do that?"

"I've been doing this a while," she smiled. "You know what you like, but if you have any problems, my name's Brenda. I'll be glad to help."

"Thanks." Rogue shuffled through the items, pretending to look for something lovely. Eventually, Honor caught on, but she handled the bras with disgust. She'd pick up something slowly and quickly put it back. She declined everything – blue and purple, yellow and black, green with white lace, animal patterns, silk, satin, cotton, underwires, sports bras, razor backs, strapless…

Finally, she said: "Is there _anything_ here dat won't make me look like a piece of candy?"

"Why? You don't wanna be sweet?" Rogue teased.

"No! I just want something to cover me up! I should've known better than to ask _you_! I've _seen_ the butt-floss _you_ wear!"

"_Butt-floss?"_

"_Yes!_ And your bras all look like _cupcakes_! Ain't dat _uncomfortable_?"

"No, not really. Ah buy the _expensive_ butt-floss and grease up my boobs."

Finally, a smile cracked her sneer, and then she giggled.

"_There_ we are!" Rogue declared triumphantly. "How about this?" She picked up a brown bra with black mess overlaid.

"_No sé_," Honor securitized it. "It's so _showy_. Who would I wear it for?"

"You wear it for _yourself_, 'cause it makes _you_ feel pretty."

"_Pretty_…?"

Honor didn't want to be pretty; she wanted to be invisible. So Rogue said: "We ain't leavin' till you've picked out three things. Yes, _three_. And no socks! Now you go find three things you want or I'll pick them out _for_ you. Do you want cupcakes? _Do you?_ Then get goin'!"

Deflated, Honor turned around and shuffled back through the aisles. Rogue pulled out two grey bras and one white, and set them at the front. Then she meandered through the store again, picking out a matching bra and panty set. They were bright blue, but much tamer than she normally got: no bows or rhinestones or lace.

Honor returned with Rogue's selection hidden behind her back.

"Was that so bad?" Rogue didn't even ask to see what she picked out; they just proceeded to check out.

Before they returned home, they stopped for an ice-cream cone. Rogue had never known a woman so miserable that _ice-cream_ wouldn't cheer her up, and Honor was the same. With wild abandon, she got chocolate all around her mouth, gobbled up the cone and then licked her fingers. Afterwards, she was still distant – not much like a child at all – but at least now she spoke.

"T'anks for taking me shopping," said Honor. "It's not really my thing, but t'anks anyway."

"You must take after your momma, 'cause that's one of Remy's favorite stores."

Honor giggled again. "You mean the boxers aren't his?"

"We secretly have a fetish for switchin' undies." She put a finger over her lips. "Shhh!"

Hearing Honor laugh was better than mall-trolling or going to the beach. But for some reason, she always looked anxious before she laughed and covered her mouth afterwards, as if she'd done something offensive. Rogue bitterly remembered her own childhood under Mystique. There wasn't much time to be a child while being beaten into formation. Rogue had never been broken and re-molded in her momma's image. Maybe she was just too stubborn, but Honor? Honor had been dependent upon her mother for _everything_. If she didn't get Belle's approval, she didn't get _any_ approval at all. And now that Belle was gone, no one else seemed to matter.


End file.
